سكتنا له دخل بالزريبة!!!!

طيب مبدئياً كده البوست ده جايز جدا يحتوي علي الفاظ نابية لترويح عن اصحاب الضغط العالي و المرارة و القولون الي زي حالاتي فالي مالوش نفس ميكملش قراءة.

المهم، زي اغلب الناس الي تعرفني او بتشوفني كل يوم و انا جاية او وانا مروحة انا دايما بسمع مزيكا و انا ماشية من ناحية تسالي و من الناحية التانية نوع من انواع الفلترة للحاجات الي مش عايزة اسمعها و انا ماشية فالمزيكا بتخلني اعمل نفسي مش واخدة بالي. 

المهم امبارح بعد ما نزلت من الباص اتجهت عشان اخد تاكسي لحد البيت بعد ما ركبت التاكسي و غالباً صوت المزيكا بيبقي عالي ومسموع للناس الي حواليا. 

بعد ما ركبت التاكسي لقيت السواق بيشورلي علي الكاست طبعا انا بالسذاجة الي انا فيها افتكرت ان السواق مشغل قرآن و انا في الحالات ديه بروح قفله المزيكا. المهم بعد ما قفلت المزيكا و ابتديت اسمع الي  الباشا السواق مشغله لقيته مبدئياً مش قرآن لقيت درس ما علينا قلت لما اشوف لقيت ايه بقي؟

 لقيت الأستاذ مشغل درس علم برضة ما علينا الي حرق دمي اني لقيت الشيخ المبجل الي بيدي الدرس بيقول انا الواحد لازم ينتخب واحد ذو خلفية اسلامية وان اي واحد هيتخب حد علماني او مش ذو خلفية اسلامية مكروه في الدين و ربنا هيحسبه عشان فضل واحد علي المسلم الصحيح!!!
طبعا انا مصدقتيش نفسي و دمي اتحرق!! فرحت عادي جداً مشغله المزيكا تاني و لا كأني دمي اتحرق و لا اي حاجة.
 برضه لقيت السواق بيشور لي علي السماعة و علي الكاسيت روحت شاليه السماعه تاني!!
أنا: نعم يا اسطي؟؟
السواق: مينفعش تسمعي مزيكا و انا بسمع درس علم اسمعي الدرس!!
أنا:  شكراً انا مش عايزه اسمع الدرس!!
السواق: لو مش هتسمعي الدرس يبقي انزلي هنا!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

انا بقي مصدقتتش نفسي و حسيت ان السواق و لاكأنه ضربني بالقلم في في وسط الشارع، طبعاً انا عارفة اني انا كان المفروض انزل و اسيبه من الأول اصلا و مدلوش الفرصة انه هو الي يقولي انزلي هنا بس انا كنت في مرحلة الصدمة الحضارية من الي بيحصل!!!

هل احنا فعلاً وصلنا للمرحلة ديه؟؟ ان الي بيختلف معنا في الموضوع و لاالرأي يبقي من الأعداء و يا رتني اختلفت معاه في الرأي اصلاً ده انا لمجرد اني مردتيش اسمع كلام مش عجبني بقيت من الأعداء يعني مينفعش تختلف معايا في الرأي في صمت كمان لا انت تسمع و الجزمة لمؤاخذة في بقك و انت ساكت!!! احيه اسكندراني لمؤاخذة يعني!!!
 وده طبعا رد فعل في منتهي الأدب لموقف زي ده!!
ده طبعاً غير الأخ الشيخ الي يقولك ان ربنا هيحسبك لمل تفضل حد علي المسلم الصحيح !! مين اصلاً الي ادي لحضرتك الحق انك تقول ده مسلم صحيح و لا مش صحيح؟؟؟
 مش كفاية لمؤاخذة القرف بتاع اصل ده مسلم و ده مسيحي!! كمان بقي فيه اصل ده مسلم صحيح و ده مسلم مش صحيح المرحله الي جايه ايه بقي؟؟ المسلم الطويل قادم و القصير ورا!!!

انا مش مصدقة احنا بقينا ازاي هو سكتنا له داخل بالزريبة كلها!!! يعني من مرحلة اننا مش عارفين نفتح بقينا علي اي حد في البلد و اول ما نعرف نفتح بقينا ننزل في بعض شتايم و قرف و قله ادب هوا فيه كده يا ربي!!
 انا لحد دلوقتي مش مصدقة الي الناس بتعمله و ساعات بحس انا واللهي احنا شعب حلال الي بيجرلنا اذا كان ديه الطريقة الي بنعامل بيها بعض!!
جت الهم و الغم و القرف لقي حد بيفكر كده!! 

يا جماعة الأسلام ده دين سماحة و دين احترام ده الرسول ذات نفسه عليه الصلاة و السلام قال "لكم دينكم وليا دين"
ده دليل علي احترام الأختلاقات الكبيرة الي زي اختلاف الأديان مش حاجات زي اختلاف في الرأي علي رئيس جمهورية حاجة نيلة!!

و لا الناس التانية الي تقلك متشتمش في شيخ بيقول كلام في منتهي التخلف و لا ليه اي علاقة بالدين اصلاً يقولك انت بتتريق علي الدين هو الشيخ بقي الدين خلاص!!
والله الواحد ما بقي يعرف يقول ايه مفيش حاجة تتقال غير حسبي الله و نعم الوكيل!!!

The Reason.. Obvious But Hidden

I have not written a post in a while cause simply my life has been a mess recently. It was so eventful and not in a good way at all. 

I was feeling that everything in my life does not make sense like my plate was full and then some. I could not handle anything else it was like trying to put a square peg in a round space and things were not fitting, no matter how hard I banged my head against the pieces forcing it to fit, it simply did not, cause Hello it was a square and the space was a circle. 

I felt like I was missing something, I was missing the reason, Why my life had to be like that?? Why were those things happening to me?

I nearly hit my head against a wall to understand, to find the logic, the reason, the thing that would make me shake my head and say "Oh wow, so that is why things are the way they are"

I kept waiting and trying to understand, trying to find out what I was doing wrong. It drove me nuts, it send me on a trip to Depression Land and I landed myself there and kept waiting for the reason, the point, the logic of why things were as they are?

Then it hit me, What if there was no reason? What if there was no point? What if the point was that I have to accept things as they are cause that is what God wanted. 

It made me start thinking that somethings are not meant to be understood but are meant to be accepted. 

I have to accept that even though things are tough and that I hated it, it is probably happening for the best. That in spite of me not thinking about it as the best now but its probably going to prove that they are  for the best on the long run. 

Or even that these things kept on happening and in my head they were not as good as I wanted but I never thought that it could have been a lot worse that I have had it easy and that its probably a slap on the wrest compared to what could have happened.

I discovered that we do not have to understand God we just have to believe that whatever he tosses down our way is the best for us, if not on the short run definitely on the long run and it made me feel a bit of relief. 

I believe from the bottom of my heart that we should try to look hard at life around us and try to learn from the situations that God shows us through ourselves or other people around us. But sometimes things are just a little bit above our brain grade that we just have to accept in our hearts that God wants the best for us no matter what. 

So, Now I know, It helped me a great deal and made me feel that I might not be as bad as I thought for those things to happen to me. it could just be that God is looking out for me and he knows better. 

Who else would I trust to have my back??!

The Freak

Sometimes I wonder, I wonder about the freak in each of us, the bad side in each and every single one. Sometimes I wonder which one rules, which one is in control? 
The one that lies and acts cruel, dumb, and irresponsible or the sensible one that is brought out by the hardships that cross our way. Sometimes I feel that inside each one of us one of these sides pushes and control more than the other. 
It scares me to think which side inside me is stronger than the other? Is it the sensible and kind hearted? Or is it the dark and somehow cocky and cruel? 
I sometimes scare myself, by not knowing which side is in control? Which side is calling the shots? I do not know anymore. I feel like I have a maze inside me that even I do not know the way out of. I hate that I sometimes do not recognize myself. 

I am scared that the freak will lead the way, will be in control, that the darkness could sometimes prevail, could somehow turnish the good. 
They say that Evil will prevail when good men do nothing but what if the good man was not strong enough to do anything? What then??

الشمبانزي و جورج مايكل!!!

كالعادة البلوج بوست ده مستوحي من سواق تاكسي ركبت معاه من الواضح ان السواقين بقوا التحابيش بتاعت حياتي الي بتدي لحياتي  معني و لون علي رأي الست سميرة سعيد... ما علينا

طبعا ببيقي يوم عالمي جدا من ايامي لما بروح ازور امي بعد الشغل و للعلم بالشئ امي ساكنة في الهرم يعني بيبقي يوم منيل بستين نيلة لما بروح الهرم و طبعاً بتزنق في المواصلات حبه حلوين من القرية الذكية للهرم و بعدين عودا حميدا للمهندسين

 المهم اليوم ده سواق التاكسي كان معاه حاجات في الكنبة الي ورا فاظطرت اركب معاه قدام مبدئيا الراجل كان مشغل شعبولا و ده طبعا امر طبيعي حيث ان السيد شعبان عبد الرحيم من المطربين المفضلين لسواقين التوكسة و الميكروبصات كلمة السر هنا توكسه وخدلي بالك!!

المهم طبعا مدقيتش اوي لكني طبعا انصدمت في افكاري لما السيد شعبولا خلص غنا وافوجئ بالسيد المبجل جورج مايكل بيغني وراه علي طول اغنية الهمسة المهملة الشهيرة!!! الي هو جالي صدمة ثقافية فظيعه من النقلة الشنيعة في المود طبعا من كتر ما خلقتي بان عليها  و قاعدت ابص للسواق كأنه كائن فضاني وشه في افاه السواق راح قافل الكاسيت و التالي حصل:

السواق: مالك يا مدام؟ مش عجبك شورش مايكل و لا ايه؟؟

أنا: لا لا طبعا شورش ده مميز من زمان!!!

السواق: ايون ده راجل حبيب جدا و حسه رومانسي و مؤثر.

أنا: اه حسه فعلا مؤثر!!

المهم سكتنا اقبل ما يغمن عليا من ان جورج يقي شوروش و رومانسي!! بس بما ان السواق كان حاطط حاجات كتير ورا و مطلع الكرسي بتاعي قدام علي الآخر انا كنت كأني قاعده علي الأزاز قاعدة مرفصة و بما اني عظمي حالته كرب كنت قاعدة عمالة احاول و بكل فشل الاقي مجال اني افرد رجلي المهم يدوب لما عرفت راحت ركبتي مطرئعة طرئعة السنين و التنين. السواق راح بصصلي انا بقي و لا كأني كائن قضائي برضه اظهار التاكسي ده كان رايح المريخ من كتر الكائنات الفضائية الي فيه!! المهم:

السواق: ايه يا مدام ده؟؟

أنا: ايه يا اسطي؟

السواق: انت بطرئعي كده ليه؟؟

أنا: معلش اصل انا عظمي حالته صعبة شويه!!

السواق: انتوا اصلا جيل منيل!!

أنا: ليه كده بس؟؟

الساوق: يعني حلتكوا صعبة صحتكوا بلبلا و لا بتعرفوا تعملوا حاجة احنا جيلنا جيل السمنة البلدي تلاقي الواحد منا في الستين و لا بعشرة زيكوا!! 

أنا: فعلا يا اسطي؟

السواق: ايون طبعا انتوا لا بتعرفوا تشتغلوا و لا بتعرفوا تكلوا و لا بتعرفو تعملوا اي حاجة الصراحة انا لو كنت من الجيل ده كنت شنقت نفسي و خلصت!! ده حتي في ناس بتركب معايا متعرفش شورش مايكل و يقولك اصلوا جيل مسقف!! انت لا مسقفين و لا نيله ده جيل المتغطي بيه عريان!!

أنا: طب يا اسطي علي جنب هنا لو سمحت

السواق: ايه يا مدام انتي زعلتي و لاايه؟؟

أنا: لا ابدا ان وصلت بس

السواق: انا افتكرت اصل انتو جيل اموس و بتتئمسوا من كل حاجة هو انا قلت حاجة غلط!!!

انا: لا يا اسطي و انت تغلط ابداً

طبعا انا نزلت و افتكرت مسرحية وجهة نظر و الراجل بيوصف عبلة كامل لمحمد صبحي و محمد صبحي قالوا اختصر قول شمبانزي و اخلص!! احنا فعلا جيل شمبانزي!! ازاي يا ناس متعرفوس شورش ده شورش ده جامد و مؤثر جتكوا الهم جبتولي الكلام!!!

Once Upon A Twitter

Once upon a time there lived a young girl, this girl was talkative, free spirited and full of life she thought she could change the world and actually tried once, twice, and thrice.. Till she knew better. 

Year after year she discovered that friends are not going to always be there. That her talkative rants are not going to be always welcomed. She went through life and its disappointments and learned the hard way. That life is not all rainbows and butterflies. That betrayals always come from the people you trust, that's how it is defined. That disappointments always going to be from the people you expect the most from.

That day she turned from being the talkative young thing who saw life as an experience worth living to a person who always expected people to disappoint her. 

Till one magical day she was sitting there bored looking for someone to talk to and thinking who she knew who would be available, through her sleepless nights, through her boring days, through her unexpected out bursts. Then while she was sitting there a blue bird flew quietly to her sight. She looked at the bird and thought this was by far the silliest, most absurd looking bird she had ever seen. She looked at it and then bored looked away. She looked back the blue bird was still siting there. 

She said what the hell and started talking to the bird. Telling her whatever that came to mind. Ranted and ranted and then suddenly the bird came back to her with a message right between it's beak, the message was from a stranger who she did not know but simply it was someone who related to what she said. 

She was surprised and said why would I talk to a stranger and ignored it. But then once again she remembered the so called friends in her life who she knew might be busy or taken aback by the business of living their lives. 

She wrote back to the stranger and then the bird came back with another message from another stranger and then another stranger and then another. Then the girl found herself in a brand new world filled with  Friangers. Strangers who are somehow friends in the big bubble that we call our lives. She found herself relating and talking with those strangers. Talking and sharing things she wouldn't dream of sharing with people from her life. 

It provided people who she believed without the bird she would have never knew they existed. She would have never found or crossed paths with, whether due to the fact that they lead different lives, live in different places. She was glad and that sense of belonging and inter connectivity gave her life meaning.

It provided her with an outlet to say whatever she wanted and talk to whoever is out there.

She now remembers how she laughed at the blue bird and called it silly and how now its the only thing in her life that makes her feel sane, makes her smile when upset and provide some hope that a stranger out there care even if it was sharing or writing few lines or even if it just provided a void where she could throw her screams and cruses into it. It was better than living her life feeling there isn't anybody out there.

That my friends is my story with Twitter, I am glad to know so many people there who made me smile, or made me feel I am not a total nut job. I am glad and I am thankful for the silly, absurd blue bird :D

Half Truths and Full Lies

She sat there looking at her hands and wondered why they aren’t shaking?

She thought of all the times in the world her hand would shake it would be today. She sat on her favorite rocking chair near the window laid her head back and closed her eyes.

She was a kid, she could not have been more than 7 or 8 years old, she still remembered how calm their house was. How she always felt that their house was the coldest house on the block even in the hottest summer days. 

She used to come back from school to her mother’s loving arms and her kindness. Her mother was not a pretty lady, yet there was something special about her eyes, the way they always shinned especially when she looked at her. She always could see herself in her eyes. 

She always sat with her on the kitchen table and watched her cook till lunch was ready. Her mother used to hum this song while cooking, she never knew what the song was but she could always hear her mother humming it while cooking.

She would look at her and smile till the clock struck three and suddenly the humming would stop, she could always recognize her mother’s stiffness as she heard the key turning in the door and then she would know that her father was home. She never understood why her father treated her mother that way. At first, she thought that’s how every husband treated his wife but then she grew to know better. 

Her father was cruel in every unusual way, how he always found a way to hurt and bruise her mum. His bruising exceeded the black and blue ugly bruises she usually saw on her mum but she never understood why. Her mother was perfect in every way but the way her father always treated her made her think that there was something she was doing wrong. I mean she must be.

Growing up she knew that love and affection was not something that existed in her father’s soul. He always found a way to be mean, even in his silence he could be hurtful the way he looked and acted.

She never understood why he simply did not leave them, if he was unsatisfied with them why simply he could not leave and find another family? 

She remembered the first time she saw her mum sitting on the couch in the living room crying silently and when she went and sat on her lap, her mother told her that her father loved them in his own way. She never understood that, she never understood what his own way means? Is this how people treated their loved ones? Was this love? Was love supposed to hurt this bad? 

He never touched her, but he never looked at her either. He was someone she had in her life without actually having.. Without dealing with except through his harsh and cruel remarks sometimes. 

She remembered the first time she drew a picture in school and she came home running excited to tell her parents about the award she won. She ran to the living room to her father and showed him her painting with the blue ribbon attached to it. He took one uncaring look at it and tossed it on the table and continued smoking his pipe. She hated the smell of his tobacco she slowly left the living room leaving her painting on the table. After lunch she sneaked into the living room to find her painting there with her father’s coffee coaster stain right next to her award ribbon. Right then she knew he does not care.

She grew older and so did everyone else and right there in their house she felt it getting colder and colder. Her mother grew faster than she should, her originally un pretty face had a scar from every single fight she had with her father not a physical scare but an emotional one, it’s as if her agony and despair had written her story on her face. She grew more and more silent. At some point in time she knew her mother was sick, she could see from all the medicine she was taking, from the repeating doctor’s visits. She knew it was not good news. She could still remember the day when the doctor came to their house, their old family doctor who used to give her candy back in the days when she was a kid and he had to give her an injection.

She sneaked behind the door that day and heard it. Her mother was dying and nothing could be done about it. For a while her mother suffered and it became worse and worse, she kept getting weaker but her eyes were still shinny. She remembered the days she used to sit next to her mum and talk to her and her mother simply smiled. She closed her eyes and remembered the day she sneaked into her mother’s room and while she quietly cracked the door opened. She could see her father’s back, at first she thought he was going to put the pillow behind her mother's back but his hands simply never reached that far. His hand stopped near her face with the pillow and simply pressed against it. She could not believe what she was seeing, her mother struggled  for few minutes and then calmly stopped. She kept looking in horror at her father while he put down the pillow under her mother’s head and her eyes were still opened and yet they were not shinny anymore.

She ran to her room in horror and never told anyone about what she saw. She simply went silent and the hatred in her heart grew and grew till it started eating her inside. Slowly her plan started formulating she was now the one responsible for the house being almost in her late teen years. She remembered watching her father slowly eating the food she made, the food she slowly poisoned making sure that he dead a long and painful death. 

She could see him growing more fable every day his strong and straight back getting hunched a little bit every day. She slowly watched him suffer with her heart filling with a little bit of hatred every single day. Till the very last day when her father fell after eating his supper, this was the day she was waiting for. She slowly walked to him lying on the floor twitching with cramps and vomit all around him and she kneeled right beside him and whispered in his ears what she knew and what she did. 

She looked at him expecting to see horror in his face, guilt but she was surprised to see a faint smile on his face. It was one of the few times she saw her father smile. His hand slowly and weakly reaching inside his house robe and grabbing a letter, he gave it to her and with a final twitch he died. 

She slowly opened the letter and instantly recognized her mother’s writing, it was an apology letter. She apologized on how finally she could not take the pain and how she asked her father to help her into leaving in peace, how she regretted leaving her but she could not take it anymore.

She got up slowly with frozen tears in her eyes, headed to the bathroom and grabbed her father’s razor. She continued rocking in her favorite chair and she could still hear the blood dripping on the floor. She continued watching the sun setting down from the window and slowly her eyes no longer shinned just like her mother’s.

Seeing The Dead?

Why do people consider it weird? As far as I know no living human being actually knows what happens to the dead after they pass and also as far as I know nobody ever been to the other side and come back to tell the tale. 

We do not actually know whether our loved ones actually move on to some other place or they dwell here around us away from our reach or our sight. 

Didn't you ever felt that you are not alone while you are physically alone in a place? 

Didn't you ever feel a presence or smell the scent that reminded you of a person who is long gone? 

Nobody ever explained where are all those feelings come from? 

Why is it impossible that you can have any sort of communication with a person who passed?

I am not talking about "The Ghost Whisperer" Communication style I am talking about subtle things, like feeling something or having a feeling, that sort of communication that the limited logic of our limited minds could not explain. 

I believe that the closer you are to the person who passed the higher the chance that somehow you are able to communicate with that person. 

Didn't you ever thought about a person who passed and that person visited you in a dream? 

And sometimes not even a dream, its during this very vivid moment in between you being asleep and you being awake that you could experience something like that. Or even when you are going through some old things belonging to or that reminds you of that person that you could feel the presence around you. Or even when you are facing a problem and you desperately seeking the advice of a departed person that you are most likely to start thinking what would have that person done? And then suddenly the answer hits you. Or when you are desperately missing a person who has been gone for a long period of time that you experience seeing that person in a moment when your mind is strayed or when you are in this clear lucid moment between awake and asleep. 

I am not saying that our brains sometimes do not play games on us, it certainly sometimes do. But due to that explanation sometimes we disregard and miss a lot of things  that we are meant to notice. 

All that I am saying is sometimes due to the rigidness of our minds and our clutching to logic and fixed values our mind has not other choice but to present to us the things that we might not be able to accept during the moments that I mentioned when you are strayed or not concentrating, when you are in between being awake and being asleep cause simply during this time our minds guards are down and we might be open to things we usually are not.